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famwhy · 1 year

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Saviour Complex

Yandere! Tangerine X Reader

Act 1 | Act 2 | Act 3

Synopsis: One night, you're pushed straight into an incoming train, causing everything to go black. When your eyes open up once more, you find yourself in a completely different country and face-to-face with your favourite character whose demise was right around the corner. Too attached to the man, you find yourself hatching a plan to save him - unaware of the consequences.

Word Count: 7,556

Act 1 - Regrets, Regrets, Sinking in Regrets

The rough, bumpy texture of a fruit grazed the nerves of your skin briefly before it disappeared immediately - spinning through the air and landing back in your palm with yet another small burst of gravity.

"Stop throwing and catching that dumb orange of yours, you don't look cool."

The biting words of the person next to you could be perceived as venomous by any passerby who decided to eavesdrop in that split second; to anyone who didn't know her personally. You knew her though - you spent your whole life with her, how could you not know her?

Your beloved sister.

"Tangerine, you mean." Your lips split open into a smirk as you corrected her.

Your words caused her brows to furrow in deep irritation on the surface, but, underneath it all, you could tell she wasn't actually mad with you.

"Same thing." She scoffed.

"It really isn't."

She gave you a look, one you were familiar with; a look which told you that she found what you just said utterly ridiculous.

"They literally look the exact same."

"But they aren't."

"Oh shut up." She huffed, one arm crossing over the other in a display of irritation. "You were never so picky about their difference until we watched that stupid movie."

You were torn between lighting up at the mention of your newly-crowned favourite movie, or showcasing your offense towards her critique of said movie.

In the end, you chose to do both.

"Okay, one, that movie isn't stupid-" she rolled her eyes as you spoke, "-and two, I can't go butchering the alias of my favourite character, now can I?"

"I don't get what you see in that guy."

Being sure to exaggerate it as much as possible, you let out a loud gasp.

"How could you say such a thing?!" You proclaimed. "He is so cool and I love his accent."

"You literally have the same accent." She deadpanned.

"Yeah but I don't sound as good as he does."

"You don't sound good in general."

You exhibited yet another over-exaggerated gasp.

"My own sister," the palm of your dominant hand pressed against your chest, fingers curling around the soft fabric beneath them, "treating me in such a way..."

"Oh, get over yourself." Another scoff left her lips, "I don't see how you're still such a carefree person despite what we used to do for a living."

For a moment, the grin on your face faltered and a flicker obscured your vision of reality. But that was all it was, a flicker - and it was only just for a moment. It was gone the next, you swore it was! No crimson substance stained against your mind or hands; no cold steel felt against the heat of your palm as your index finger wrapped tightly around that little lever; no screams that echoed through the confines of your head over and over and over-

-no, none of that. Not anymore, at least.

You were over that.

It was done and dusted.

It was thrown under the rug, ready to compile dust and slowly wither away through the teeth of the critters that lived alongside it.

It was never to be seen again.

At least, not by your hands.

"-ey! Hey!"

Your eyelids met several times in rapid succession as you blinked away the sudden blur that kept you from seeing the concave of your sister's lips.

Ah, see? She did care for you.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was light, barely there, with a sense of gentleness she wouldn't be caught dead exhibiting towards anyone that wasn't you. "I didn't mean to, I was just... I didn't mean it."

"Nah," a small huff left your lips as they curved up into that familiar, carefree grin, "it's fine, I don't care anymore."

The way her expression didn't shift in the slightest was enough to tell you that she didn't believe you. However, even if she had her doubts towards your words, she chose not to speak more on the matter.

After a few beats of silence, a large red vehicle slowly approached from the horizon - emerging as though it was Harley Quinn pulling herself out of the toxic substance the Joker decided to drown her in.

There it was, your bus.

"Listen," your sister's voice was quieter than normal, tender and soft around the edges - still speaking as though what she brought up had bothered you, "I just want you to know that... I find it hard too. You're not alone in this. I was there with you too."

You paused for a moment, standing right outside the open doors that led inside the vehicle.

Then, you took one step on, your hand reaching for the pole inside. Not too long after, you tilted your head towards your sister - towards Lena - and smiled, "I know."

With that, you thrusted the rest of your body onto the vehicle and sent her a wave as it started up - the screeching sound of its wheels being drowned out by the sound of the engine starting back up.

And then, you were off.

The glow of the night sky shined through the see-through walls of the office, lighting up several seats as it bounced off the monitors resting on each desk.

It was quiet, the only sound being the clicks of your heels against the solid ground, approaching the switches on the wall to turn off the one light that remained on. The one hovering over your desk.

With a flick of your finger, the only yellow glow in the room faded away to allow for the moon's blue rays to completely take over.

You didn't mind night shifts, they were comforting - some might even argue - relaxing.

They had this feel to them.

One where you could remain unbothered, trapped within the confines of your mind forever to wonder what exactly life had in store for you next.

There was once a time where you hated being left to your thoughts; nay, you loathed it.

Being left with your thoughts meant being left with your memories; being left with your memories meant being left with the haunting actions of your past; being left with said past actions meant being left with that same voice that berated your existence.

It was frightening.

It was terrifying.

So you ran from it.

You ran until it affected you no longer, you ran until your legs started to ache from the pain; until your lungs shrivelled up from the lack of air that it was so gluttonous for.

You ran until you had left it all behind.

But even then, it still came back to haunt you.

Even then, you couldn't help but catch little glimpses of hair that would disappear past the sharpest corners - hair that seemed to belong to one of them.

But that was impossible.

After all, you-

Your head shook from side-to-side, eyes finally returning to reality and finding yourself right by the lights of your office, finger still hovering over the switch.

You sighed.

It was time to go home.

Your hand instinctively rose up, gripping the disk that surrounded the hat on your head and pulling it down slightly to ensure it stayed there.

Then, your fingers curled tighter around the handle of the gray briefcase and you set off, footsteps swift as they echoed down the empty corridor.

With a 'ding!', the doors to the rectangular space parted to allow you to fill the vacant spot inside.

You stepped in, curling your other hand around the handle of the briefcase as you held it in front of you and leaned against the cold, metal railing.

The glass at the back of the elevator provided for a good scenery that overlooked the night sky twinkling over the busy streets of the city; still ever-so-alive despite the time.

One particular puff of air that left your mouth fogged up the glass in front of you, the sight filling you with a familiar childish sense of delight and, before you even knew it, one of your fingers rose up to draw two lines and an upturned curve underneath before it returned to the briefcase once more.

A small smile drew out your lips as your eyes fell half-lidded.

The moment was then interrupted by the 'ding!' of the elevator once more.

You turned around, stepping outside before tipping your sunhat at the male stood with a phased-out look in his eyes, adorning a black hat of his own with the word 'Security' printed onto it.

Luckily, he wasn't phased-out enough to not notice your greeting, to which he returned with a small, nervous smile of his own.

One of the cuter security guards of your building.

A particular strong breeze had your hand clutching tighter onto your hat and your eyes squinting, trying to avoid any dust from getting inside.

The street lamps illuminated the road as many individuals rushed by, ranging from stressed business men to childish couples wishing to play a game of tag with one another.

You didn't stay too long to observe though; no, you couldn't. Didn't have the time. Your sister was probably awaiting your arrival with anxious, clattering teeth - wondering what was taking you so long while not daring to admit that she was worried for you.

Your eyes travelled over to the stairs in the middle of the street, leading downwards into the network of tunnels connected underground to allow for easy access to many different places in the country.

Soon, your heels were clicking against those stairs, traversing down them to get to the tracks you would need to wait by to be able to set course home.

You stood at a queue, waiting to scan your card. It wasn't a long wait. It never was. At least, not at this time of night. Many people preferred snuggling under a blanket at home and watching a movie with a few snacks rather than having to work a late night shift where who-knows-what could go wrong.

Once you scanned in, you swiftly made your way to your platform, not needing to take the smallest glance at the signs to be able to know where to go. By now, it was all muscle memory anyway.

As you approached the rails, your heels made contact with a prominent bump on the ground - causing you to stumble the slightest amount before you were able to regain your footing just like that.

Now, it was just the waiting game.

You were a professional at waiting. Patience was practically your middle name; it had to be if you wanted to get your previous job done quickly-

-or... the job you had currently. Right, this normal, little office job. You had to be patient when waiting for the printer to be done with your papers, or awaiting an email from a co-worker of yours. Patience was key.

Patience was also risky.

In the time that you were patient, so many things could happen. You could wind up with your hands tied up in a basement because you decided to be patient and wait for your friend; or you could wind up with a gun to your-

"Enjoy hell, you murderer!"

Now, your reflexes were normally stupendous. Out of this world, really. When someone wished to deliver a rapid left jab to your face, you would twirl your body to the side to avoid it. Or when they went in for an uppercut aimed to take out your jaw, you would take one step back too quickly for them to react.

You wished you could claim your reflexes were good in this instance too- but it had all happened so fast.

The flashing lights of the incoming train; the harsh shove against your back that sent you tumbling over the platform; and the searing, white, hot pain that exploded against your side like a highly reactive chemical would with water.

So quick. So sudden.

So painful...

For a split second, everything went black.

Then, your eyes opened back up again.

The first thing you noticed was that you were stood upright, exactly as you were before being pushed - waiting in almost the exact same position. The railways right in front of your vision would have been enough to trick you into thinking that was all a daydream; some cruel concoction your mind conjured up to punish you for your sins.

You would've believed that whole heartedly had it not been for the fact that you were no longer underground.

The light of the moon was barely prevalent with the harsh illumination that was emitted from the lamps of the train station. There were a lot more people at this platform than the one you were previously at, the chatter was also louder than before; lively and sporadic, as though nothing just happened. As though you didn't just die.

You blinked slowly, brain struggling to process what, exactly, had just happened.

You died... didn't you?

No way you went through that pain and didn't die.

Someone pushed you into the tracks as a train was incoming.

How could you have possibly survived that?

Your head glanced from side-to-side as you noticed the people around you - specifically, their features. It differed from the Western features you were used to seeing in your day-to-day life. Instead, they looked to be East Asian, Japanese if your geography skills were doing you justice.

Another thing you noticed were the signs.

They weren't in English, instead filled with the symbols your mind automatically associated with the Japanese language.

You were in Japan somehow.

Was this some sort of final dream?

No way you imagined all that pain- that abrupt slam against your side that caused you to wince just thinking about it.

Before you could further indulge yourself in the expanding, vast sea of your thoughts - a sudden pick-up in the breeze sent your hat flying straight off your head and towards your left.

A small gasp left your lips as your hand reached out, fingers stretching and just barely grazing the ridge before it picked-up speed once more and narrowly escaped your grasp.

It was then that you decided to rush after it, careful to steady yourself lest you stumble over your heels.

Luckily, you didn't have to move much for, soon, the ridge of the hat was caught by a set of fingers that grasped onto it before holding it out towards you.

Your own hand reached out, grasping the other end of your sunhat as you lightly pulled it down - ready to meet the eyes of the one who saved your beloved hat and thank them.

"'ere you go, love."

Your mouth fell open, agape in pure astonishment and disbelief.

The way this person didn't pronounce his 'h'; the way he gave you that specific nickname; those familiar incredibly handsome facial features that belonged to ATJ himself.

This person was-

"Tangerine..." You whispered lightly under your breath, voice practically inaudible as it was drowned out by your pure amazement.

"Sorry?" Your favourite character rose one of his eyebrows, cockney accent as prevalent as ever.

Was this guy really Tangerine? There was no way, right?

"Oh, uhm, I said thank you."

He nodded briskly, about to turn and board the train when a voice called out to him.

"Oi! You coming?"

Another cockney accent paired with the broader figure and unique, silver-dyed hair that belonged to the brother of your favourite character.

That was Lemon, there was no doubt about it.

And if that was Lemon, this was definitely Tangerine.

You watched as Tangerine's facial features shifted, brows furrowing and lips tugging down as he turned towards his brother's direction. "Yeah, I'm coming! Hold your fuckin' horses, mate!"

He then immediately turned back towards you, eyes slightly wider than before. "Beg your pardon, love. Sorry, I forgot there was a lady present for a moment."

His chivalry was cute, and his looks just made him all the more attractive in your eyes.

Before you could even realise it, your lips curved upwards into a huge smile and a small, amused giggle left them as your eyes shone with mirth.

Once again, you seemed to have caught him off guard, causing his eyes to widen a little more as he paused for a moment. But that was all it was, just a moment. The next, he was shaking his head and heading off towards his brother without another word.

Holy shit, you just met the Tangerine!

The same Tangerine that you gushed to your sister about, complimenting his strength and looks and amazing accent.

But if you just met Tangerine... and you just saw Lemon with him... did that mean..?

"Holy shit! I'm in Bullet Train!"

One of your hands rose up to your mouth, pure excitement coursing through your veins as you refrained from letting out a high-pitched squeal.

Although, it wasn't long before that excitement of yours shifted into pure, unadulterated horror.

"Holy shit. I'm in Bullet Train."

Somehow, some way, you had died and got transported into the world of a movie.

And of all the movies you could have been transported to, it just had to be Bullet Train - the movie that ends in this very train flying off the rails and crashing straight into the ground underneath.

How the fuck were you supposed to survive a train crash from a vehicle going two hundred miles per hour?! You weren't Ladybug, you didn't have insane levels of luck!

Okay, okay, everything should be fine so long as you didn't board the train, right?

Dear lord, was this all really happening right now? Were you seriously in your favourite movie?

The setting and two of the characters matched exactly so you must be in the movie.

But then, what the hell happened to you? Who pushed you into that train? If you died, what would happen to Lena?

If you seemed to recall correctly, that person referred to you as a 'murderer'. They must've known, right? And if they knew... then that meant they would go after Lena too.

She would be fine though. You were caught off guard, a moment of weakness - Lena never had one of those. She was always on guard; had been since you both first agreed to stop. She could handle herself.

Yeah, she'd be fine.

Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Perhaps if you never boarded the train, you could go about your life as normal? Maybe start a new life here, completely fresh? You knew enough Japanese to get by.

Maybe you could start a nice, little bakery and get cute regulars that always asked for the same order. You could hire sweet people to work as waiters or waitresses and create treats for those around you to enjoy. Maybe you could even find the man of your dreams and start a family?

Oh, who were you kidding?

How on Earth could you find another man when you were literally in the same world as Tangerine?

No other man could scale up to the handsome assassin with anger issues.

That's right, he was an assassin. Both him and his brother.

If you recalled correctly, their current mission was to keep the White Death's son safe and retrieve his briefcase of money.

The White Death was a very dangerous individual. The head of a very dangerous criminal organisation.

He was powerful. Too powerful.

Did you really want to get yourself wrapped up in that?

A light bump against your side snapped you right out of your thoughts, causing you to look straight at the cause of the interruption.

"Sorry, that was my bad."

Your eyes widened by a fraction, gaze landing on the face of Brad Pitt himself.

The main character had just bumped into you. Ladybug, himself, had just bumped into you.

Ladybug was yet another assassin who had almost no affiliation with Lemon and Tangerine except for one time where he was shot twice by Lemon on one of his missions. Ladybug used to be brash and temperamental but you believed that, during the events of this movie, he was trying to turn over a new leaf and get his job done as peacefully as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he was both extremely unlucky and extremely lucky.

And he would also later find out that this mission of his wouldn't turn out as peacefully as he hoped.

"Miss, you good?"

You blinked twice, suddenly capable of seeing the furrowed brows of the laid-back male in front of you. He was probably concerned considering the fact that you phased out right as he bumped into you and apologised.

"Uh, yeah." You smiled, nodding your head very slightly. "Thank you for your concern."

He reciprocated your smile with one of his own, eyes twinkling a little in what you deduced was delight. "It was no problem. Y'know I admire your capability of putting that little interaction behind you and moving on. You go, lady."

Lena always found his little bursts of, what you liked to call, 'spiritual awareness' extremely irritating - although, you begged to differ. You found it cute how hard he tried to turn over a new leaf and gain a new attitude towards life. It was nice to see him try.

"Thank you." You bowed your head again, lips still stretched into that smile.

He then excused himself, putting the phone in his hand back up to his ear and walking over to the lockers behind you.

Well, now was probably your queue to leave.

So long as you never entered the Bullet Train, you should be completely fine, right?

With that thought in mind, you turned around, taking one step towards the exit of the station...

...and then a face flashed through your mind.

The handsome features belonging to your favourite character, drowning and choking in his own crimson substance, desperately trying to warn the main character; to let him know of the danger he was with; the danger he was right next to.

That's right... Tangerine died in the movie, didn't he?

Could you really sit back and relax, in the same universe as your favourite character, and not do anything to save him?

You paused mid-step as your chest heaved outwards, a large sigh escaping your mouth before, ultimately, you twirled around; gaze set straight onto the bullet train in front of you.

Curse your favouritism for ATJ.

Alright, well, if you were doing this, you might as well do it with some sort of preparation. Entering a train with several highly-trained assassins and surviving it was no easy feat, after all.

If you recalled correctly, which you almost a hundred percent did due to how many times you had watched the movie, Ladybug retrieved all the aids for his mission from that locker he just went to. In that locker should be a gun which he never bothered picking up.

If you could get your hands on that, you would be able to hold your own pretty well.

It should be fine, you were over your past anyway. It was no longer a bother so you would definitely be able to pick it up again.

Besides, you weren't gonna use it lethally. You swore off of that ages ago.

Now, your only problem was how to keep Ladybug from closing the locker after he was done taking out what he needed from it.

How did one stop another from closing a locker?

It's practically done from muscle memory; an action not given much thought but done as habitually as breathing was - something which was not easy to keep someone from doing without physically harming them.

And you would prefer not to harm Ladybug for the contents inside his locker.

Maybe if you...

No, that wouldn't work.

What if you-?

Nah, that definitely wouldn't do it.

Perhaps you could-

Before you could even think about the third thing, a familiar grey hat passed you - the same hat Ladybug wore throughout the start of the movie.

Did he just pass you?

In panic, your head frantically did a full one-eighty, eyes landing on the blue rectangular spaces lined up in a shelf behind you, one of which was very slightly open - Ladybug's to be specific.

Well, that was convenient.

With a confident strut, you made your way straight towards the locker - eyes trained on the prize. You stopped just a centimetre away from the shelf before your dominant hand rose up and pulled it open, gaze landing straight on the dark object to the side; completely untouched and fully-loaded.

Your lips turned upwards in a sense of accomplishment, despite the fact that you hadn't done much to acquire this object in the first place. Still, you reached for the pistol with that sense of pride - although, it slowly started to ebb away the closer your fingers got to the handle, nerves causing them to start to shake as they drew nearer and nearer; almost like you were about to touch something you suspected was poisonous. But it wasn't poisonous, it was just a gun. You could pick it up.

Yeah, you could pick it up.

Your fingers lightly grazed the familiar cold metal, flinching back after only two seconds of contact, eyes squinting shut as though it was going to explode merely from your touch; as though it would kill you to hold it.

But it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

It couldn't harm you without anyone touching it.

You were fine.

With a small breath of air leaving your lips, you curled your fingers back around the weapon, picking it up and immediately hiding it behind your hat. You waited a few moments; as if to really ensure you would be okay; as if to instil in your mind that it wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't hurt anyone else using your hands.

Then you turned around - eyes widening way more than usual as you witnessed the train start to move and the doors start to close. Quickly, you rushed towards it stumbling a little on your heels before your foot almost got caught on a wedge in the ground. It was at that point, you decided 'fuck it' and lunged towards the door, just barely falling inside the capsule between carriages as you rushed to pull your knees up, narrowly avoiding the doors almost cutting them off.

You let out a sigh of relief before getting up and dusting yourself off, using both your hands to place your hat firmly back onto your head, pushing down on the ridge to do so.

When your hands lowered once more, however, you caught sight of that wretched thing in them once again.

Your breath hitched in your throat; refusing to leave it as the drum of your heartbeat echoed through your ears, growing louder and louder and louder. You could feel it in your ears, as though it traversed your veins from your chest all the way up to the caverns you used to be able to hear, blocking out every other sound so that it was the only thing you could listen to because of how selfish it was for your attention.

As if that wasn't enough, you could even feel it slamming against your chest over and over and over-

-and then it all just stopped.

Just like that, gone.

Your shrunk pupils enlarged once again, eyes landing on the now-empty gun in your hand - the cartridge loaded with bullets having fallen to the ground underneath you.

Without even thinking, you threw the cartridge straight out the open window.

After heaving a few breaths, you realised what you had just done.

"Ah, shit."

What use was an unloaded gun to you now?

"Woah, what are you doing, lady?"

A sudden voice broke you away from your thoughts and caused your eyes to trail up, meeting a certain pair of mesmerising blue ones that belonged to the main character of the movie. You then slowly trailed your eyes back towards the empty gun in your hand before meeting the blonde's eyes once more and slowly, ever so slowly, raising both of your hands up.

"This isn't what it looks like."

He rose an eyebrow, eyeing the gun in your hand and then looking at your face once more.

"Awh, man, lady - I really thought you were better than this. A gun? Seriously?"

"No, no!" You quickly denied, shaking your head from side-to-side. "Seriously, I- I wasn't going to use it maliciously, I swear!"

"Look, we can talk this through, yeah?" He rose one of his arms to the back of his head, scratching it rather awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah! Of course!" You agreed. "I'd love that!"

"Okay, so how about we put the gun down first, yeah?"

You took off your hat, placing the gun inside before fitting it right back around your scalp and saying, "there. Out of sight, out of mind."

He gave you that same skeptical look you had seen in the movie and, now, had seen twice in real life. Then he decided to leave it be.

"Do you mind if we have this chat after this call I have to take? Sorry, I don't wanna be rude or anything but I did kinda leave someone on hold."

Ah yes, he was speaking to his Handler, wasn't he? The woman who gave him the job as opposed to his sick co-worker Carver, who was actually played by your favourite actor, Ryan Reynolds.

"Oh, yeah, go right ahead. I don't wish to interrupt." You added a little, nervous giggle to the end of that sentence; if only to further push the harmless citizen act you put on.

Act? Sorry, no - it wasn't an act. It was the truth. You were a harmless citizen. All you wanted to do was save your favourite character's life; nothing more, nothing less.

"Could you, uhh, follow after me? Just, keep a little behind though. Y'know 'cause... it would be kinda rude if you listened in on my conversation." He looked to the side awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah, I could do that."

It wasn't like you didn't already know his exact conversation like the back of your hand anyway. But he didn't know that and neither did he need to know that.

You then watched as he entered the next carriage, being stopped by the staff member who asked for tickets as he proceeded to give the receipt for his ticket but not the actual ticket itself - just one of the many instances where his bad luck kicked in.

Soon enough, it was your turn to follow after, walking down the carriage a little nervously as you were stopped by the exact same guy.

"Ticket please."

"Ah, right." You let out a little, nervous giggle similar to the one you did earlier. "Lemme just..."

You pretended to look for the tickets on your person, fully knowing that you didn't have any considering the fact that you were... well- not really part of this world until you opened your eyes straight after dying.

Your nervous smile grew even further as his gaze grew more stern.

"One stop."

"I know." You sighed, giving up on the act.

You then moved past the man, not wanting to stay any longer under his scrutinising gaze. It wasn't your fault you didn't have a ticket! This world didn't even exist!

Or- well, it shouldn't exist. But somehow, it did.

The door to the capsule in between carriages slowly opened as you approached, allowing you to step through and see Ladybug scouring through the shelves, looking for the briefcase he was assigned to retrieve.

"Oh, uh," as soon as he noticed you, he stopped his search; hand pausing where it was as his head faced you. "So, lady, wanna explain to me what was going on back there?"

"Oh, well... I was just making sure it wouldn't get into anyone else's hands, y'know?" You looked off to the side, wondering how you were going to get away with sneaking a gun on a train right in front of the main character, loaded or not.

"Uh huh..." he sounded skeptical - rightfully so, you would be too if this happened to you. "Why don't you let me hold onto it for ya?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

He gave you another skeptical look and you found yourself recalling The Prince's line in the movie, what was it again..? Ah, yes, 'the innocent girl act doesn't get you far when you have a gun in your hands' or something along those lines.

"Look, lemme just-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you started to spin on your heel and swiftly turned around, making you way back to the carriage you just passed - the carriage housing both Lemon and Tangerine if you recalled correctly.

"Wait! Lady!"

You chose to ignore his calls, continuing to walk until you reached the movement-sensitive doors that opened up for you once more.

Before you completely left, though, you gave one more glance over your shoulder, so sure that he would follow straight after you. You were proved wrong, however, after seeing him pause and reach one hand up to his earpiece, eyes immediately averting from your form over to the shelf once again.

The Handler must've-

Just then, your chain of thoughts was abruptly halted by a collision against your front side. The surface you collided with was rather hard, if you did say so yourself - so hard, in fact, that it caused you to lose balance on your heels - body beginning to stumble before a strong pair of arms caught your form.

"Fuckin' 'ell. Do you mind-?" An irritated voice paused mid-sentence. "Woah, you alright there, love?"

The familiar cockney accent had your heart beating right out of your chest and your head tilting up to peer through the ring of your sunhat and meet eyes with your favourite character himself.

Holy shit, Tangerine just caught you.

The Tangerine.

You could die (again) happy.

Dear lord. This was like all those scenes in those romance movies you would watch with Lena; the ones where the female lead would get caught in the male lead's arms and they would get lost in the endless pools of one another's eyes, drowning in the moment as time seemed to stop around them.

Just the thought that you were having that moment with Tangerine, your favourite character ever, was enough to fluster you beyond belief as a small, bashful smile stretched over your lips.

"'ang on..." he rose a brow, staring into your eyes with such intensity, you almost fainted then and there. "You're the girl whose 'at I caught."

"Yep, that's me." You let out a small, nervous giggle. "Sorry about bumping into you, I wasn't quite looking ahead of me."

At your words, his eyes trailed behind your form, furrowed with that irritated expression that seemed to never leave his face. "What? Is some fuckin' creep following you or something? You look worried."

"Oh no, not at all!" You quickly drew his attention away from Ladybug, not wanting to interfere too much with the movie's plot. "I'm just really clumsy. It's really hard to walk around in heels, haha."

"That so?" He rose a brow at your words but chose to press no further.

Instead, he slowly helped you back up onto your feet and you were so sure he would've left the interaction at that but you didn't want it to end so quickly. Call you selfish but, was it really too much to ask for your favourite character to stick around a little more with you.

So, in hopes of keeping him around for just a little longer, you winced and he immediately took notice.

In all his gentlemanly glory, he clutched your arms tighter and helped lead you over to the set of seats that were completely empty, aiding you in sitting down by helping to gradually lower your body.

Meanwhile, Lemon and the White Death's son both stared at you incredulously.

"Just... sit 'ere, yeah? 'Think those things may have twisted your ankle or something."

He was referring to your heels.

"Thank you, mister..?"

"Tangerine." He introduced himself before jabbing his thumb out towards his brother. "'E's Lemon."

You nodded, parting your lips before hesitating for a second. Should you give your real name? Everyone in the movie went by aliases, not a single real name was disclosed - other than Kimura, of course.

Then again, the reason they went with aliases in the first place was so that they couldn't have their personal information disclosed in the crime world. You literally had no personal information to your name.

Ah, fuck it.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you Tangerine, Lemon."

The Brit then turned towards the Russian seated at the other window.

"See? She knows not to question it."

After that, he gave you a brisk nod and resumed taking his seat on the opposite end of his brother and the mob boss' son once more.

"Right, your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble what you got yourself into, didn't you, naugh'y boy?" Tangerine smirked as he taunted the boy.

His words damn near drew out a chuckle from your lips had you not restrained yourself enough. One slip of the tongue and you could be regarded as a threat by the 'twins' (a debatable title), and you did not want to be seen as a threat to the people who ended up sawing the limbs off a dozen of the White Death's men in Bolivia.

So, to fully ensure that no suspicion was instilled your way, you turned your head to the side, facing the window that sped by the land of Japan at high speeds, providing a vivid yet beautiful view of the country.

But that didn't matter to you, all you cared about was the reflection of the three men in the glass - looking exactly like they did in the movie. This way, if their comments brought about a smile on your lips - they wouldn't be able to tell you were eavesdropping.

It was such a shame that you missed out on Lemon's tangent about Thomas the Tank Engine though.

"Why, uh, why Tangerine though?" The Son asked, bringing you straight out of your thoughts.

"Oh it's a sophisticated name." Lemon answered.

"Oh, fuckin' 'ell. It's not impor'ant, is it?" Your favourite cut in, looking as annoyed as ever. "What is impor'ant are the seven'een dead bodies we left getting you back from the triad that kidnapped you with plans to ransome you to your extremely psychotic, fucked-up father."

"Actually, it's sixteen." His brother corrected him. Although, he himself wasn't correct since he wasn't counting that one innocent person they killed.

"What's that now?"

"Sixteen kills, mate."

"Oh no, it was seventeen."

"Iiiit's sixteen." Lemon drawled out.

"Lemon, you're starting to get on my fucking tits." Tangerine scowled and you almost let out a giggle as you watched them bicker back and forth.

"It's sixteen."

"I'll smash my fuckin' 'ead through a brick wall."

"Well maybe that'd help your memory 'cause it was sixteen."

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?! It was seventeen goddammit," Tangerine slammed his hand against the table before continuing, "I wanna fuckin' strangle you-"

"Do you mind if we do this right now?" Lemon turned to the Russian male sat beside him.

"Don't worry about him-"

If you remembered correctly, now would be the time where they showed a montage of what happened with Lemon and Tangerine before they entered the train with the White Death's Son.

The montage was funny to watch but Lena begged to differ, scowling at each and every thing they did on screen; loathing the corpses they left behind and the way they carelessly killed other people as if she didn't-

-ah, what were the characters saying again?

"Our job is to keep you safe and to recover the briefcase with the ransome money inside." You heard the character with the face of ATJ say as he looked off to the side, eyes seeming to search for something and growing more frantic the longer he couldn't find it. "And I plan on completing my job and keeping-

"Lemon." He interrupted himself as he called to his brother, pupils stopping their wandering around to land on the other man.

"Hmm?"

"Where's the briefcase?"

"Oh I stashed it."

A pause.

And then, Tangerine placed both of his hands on the table, fingers intertwined with one another. "The case, Lemon. Go get me the fucking case."

The broader male got up to do just that, leaving the two other males on the table alone. You could practically feel the stress seeping from the male with a cockney accent.

"You're a liability, you know?" The Son spoke up again. "To my father."

"Hm?" The Brit left at the table perked his head up.

The Son leaned in, facial expression hard to decipher through the glass - but it wasn't like you needed to, after all, you watched the movie a dozen times before. "He doesn't need a reason to kill people like you, he needs a reason not to. Does he have one?"

The assassin paused for a minute, giving the other male a weird look before opening his mouth as if to respond. Before he could though, his phone went off and he reached for it - though, not without uttering one last sentence. "That's fucking confusin'."

He then picked up the phone and gave his greeting before the male on the other side asked him for The Son, if you recalled correctly.

"What? You mean this dickhead with the silly face tattoos? Yeah, he's sat right here."

Ah, so you were right. Of course you were.

"Yes, of course..." the male continued after a pause, leaning backwards and peering to the side to see Lemon's form stressing over the fact that, unbeknownst to him, Ladybug had stolen the briefcase. Once Tangerine saw, however, the confidence in his tone fell and his voice wavered as he continued, "...I've got the case..."

He kept the phone up to his ear for only a few seconds after as his eyes furrowed and a flicker of realisation crossed over them before the phone in his hand slowly lowered to his side.

After ending the call with one of the White Death's men, he strutted over to the capsule his brother entered - the way he walked almost made a squeal pass out of your mouth - the straight line across his lips, the furrow of his brows, the way he fixed his collar; it was all so smooth, you couldn't help but want to swoon.

Once he left though, your rose-coloured lenses slowly paved way for you to finally see the bigger picture; to understand fully what sort of a predicament you got yourself into.

Your life could be in great peril (once again) because of one specific character that was on her way to this very carriage to kill the White Death's son himself...

...The Hornet.

I just love that Tangerine apologises for swearing in front of a lady before going ahead and doing it again haha

Next Act

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere male #tangerine #yandere tangerine #x reader #female reader #yandere male x female reader #bullet train #ladybug bullet train #lemon and tangerine #lemon bullet train #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #the prince bullet train #kimura bullet train

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lemonhemlock · 1 year

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i saw that you are a dark!dany believer. i'm not really a fan of daenerys but i don't think she'll go mad or whatever. but i'm interested to hear your points about why do you support this theory...

listen so i haven't read the books in a while because i have an academic paper i actually need to be finishing so i don't have exact quotes on hand but

you will find in dany's pov that sometimes she will start spewing mad shit like I AM DAENERYS STORMBORN DESCENDANT OF MAEGOR THE CRUEL BLOOD OF THE DRAGON I WILL RAZE CITIES TO THE GROUND AND MY ENEMIES WILL DIE SCREAMING

i was reading AGOT like a normal person and just, you know, found it strange she's having these intrusive violent thoughts ever since the first book (and i quite sympathized with daenerys in the first book)

but she never quit it with this unhinged shit and it just got worse as the series progressed. her entire shtick is having dragons and using them to burn stuff to the ground, conquering places, not knowing how to rule them, inadvertently making things worse and then leaving, only her ultimate plan is to do the same to westeros

and she is so delusional when talking abt westeros, too, no critical thinking abt rhaegar or aerys or how the rebellion was justified, robert is always "the usurper" (it's never "aerys was a tyrant and deserved to be deposed"), the starks and the lannisters are exactly the same, the people will welcome her with open arms.....

like i genuinely don't understand how people are so convinced and fanatical about this girl being a hero and about targ restoration being a good thing. you don't need a phd or to make up a complicated house-of-cards theory to see how she's a ticking bomb waiting to go off 🤷‍♀️

and i say this as a cersei stan bc it can be mad entertaining to root for a sassy bonkers queen but it's absolutely wild to me how people hate cersei so much for being a ~villain yet fall for dany's pov trap every time

i'm not even getting into her white saviour complex and how her quest for violent revolution is repeatedly thwarted by the realities that people cannot live in your glorious utopia if you do not properly envisage a system to replace the one you just tore down & make space for them in that brave new world where they can actually thrive, instead of being worse off than before

dany is basically an incompetent politician, a terrible visionary and an awful queen. and, worst off all, she is blinded by her own delusions that she is a Good, Moral Person so when she will inevitably be faced with the reality that the people of westeros do not want her or she is not the rightful queen (bc of either jon or fAegon - take ur pick, whichever theory you like best)..... i think she's gonna snap

i have no idea how that will go down, though, since it's only natural that she be involved in the fight against the others, too, somehow

#not to mention that she's barren #so what happens with the succession after she dies #another war?#also as the last targaryen (as far as she knows) with no living relatives of her blood #what's gonna happen with her dragons/monsters #who is to control them?#ask #anon #anti daenerys targaryen

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everyneji · 1 year

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Bouncing off this post here, I want to talk a little about Neji and romantic relationships beyond just my shipping preferences. Though I wouldn't call this very exact meta either, as there's nothing to really go off of.

The truth is, Neji died before his love life was relevant. I know a lot of people think that he and Tenten would have ended up together but I'm not so sure. I believe he would have stayed uncoupled like his teammates in canon. Team Gai are Team Comic Relief and have genuinely had the most wholly platonic team-centric content of any of the Konoha 12 and the only crush we see from any of them is Lee's on Sakura, which was never gonna happen. I doubt Kishimoto would leave only Lee uncoupled of the team. At most, I think Neji would end the series with an implied off-screen Hyūga wife and a kid.

To add to this, as far as spin-off/AU/filler content goes, we only see 'Neji is a perv' 'Neji has a sister complex' 'Hinata considers Neji a romantic rival' 'Neji is unaffected by Sexy no Jutsu', none of which are a serious attempt to answer the question of 'What does Neji want?'

I also wonder if Neji could even marry out of the Hyūga clan, not just because of his caste status, but because he's a nobleman. He's not likely to be taking someone else's name. Historically speaking, men tend to be the only ones who can start a new branch clan, but in canon the equivalent of this is Hizashi being sealed. Hyūga seem to keep to themselves; Himawari and Boruto imply that the white eyes are a recessive trait. Hinata marrying out is an exception because she was already effectively disowned and she's marrying the Ninja Saviour.

(Of course, if Kishimoto wanted it to happen it would, the Hyūga entering the modern world and changing, but I'm working within the understanding of what we have.)

Narratively speaking, Neji is also far more intertwined with the destiny of the Hyūga clan than Hinata, whose story has centered her feelings for Naruto from the jump. I have a hard time seeing him leaving his family behind for love. Though he's had some very valid issues with his family, he's also fully embraced their techniques and their name; he just wants the respect and equal treatment he's owed within that.

With no canon evidence of romantic interest to go on, I personally focus on how Neji is like Gaara, that is, such a Naruto fanboy that it becomes its own beast of the headiest affectionate feelings we see displayed from them. Neji smiling so genuinely at what could be his final moments because he's thinking of how Naruto saved him is pretty intense.

'Hope is a thing with feathers, that perches in the soul ...'

I've touched on it in another post, but I also think it's sincerely amusing that when Hinata sacrifices herself in the Pain Invasion Neji goes "Why'd she do that?" His own dad sacrificed himself for love! And he has to know of her feelings for Naruto. He even asks if she wants to see Naruto off at the end of part one and hears of how the mere sight of Naruto gives Hinata the vapours. Yet he just doesn't get it ... until you fast forward a bit and put him on that battlefield with Naruto and Hinata in danger, and suddenly Neji's taking the bullet. As he dies in Naruto's arms, he says, "Naruto, Hinata-sama is willing to die for you. So remember you hold more than one life in your hands. And it seems that my life too may have been one of them." He directly parallels himself to Hinata (who sacrificed herself for love of Naruto) and says Naruto holds his life too. I mean, alright!

I'm not saying Kishimoto deliberately wrote Neji in love with Naruto but I think so long as Neji and Hinata are foils to each other who are both moved by the same man, you can derive interesting interpretations from that.

To return to 'what would Neji want' my personal answer is 'Someone able to offer perspectives he had not considered.' It's not just about being challenged -- the person needs to have a real point to make that they can back up. This suggests the person in question would need a certain strength of character, intuition, and likely the power to influence the world around them. This is generally what I go with when writing, but of course, it remains all headcanon.

I hope people forgive me for this very speculative post, I just ... got carried away writing it so hey. Here ya go! 👋

#not everyneji #neji hyuga #long post #cw incest #.'hinata princess of WHAT' still makes me cackle #.i think of it everytime i see someone call her a princess

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homosexualmorelikehomiesexual · 4 months

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goddddddddd saltburn is driving me crazy. specifically the interplay of emotional support and consent and deception and false fronts. elspeth is obsessed with other peoples trauma, but ultimately devoid of whats necessary to handle that type of situation with tact or kindness, because she can only interact with it as gossip. as a hypothetical. as entertainment. so she just sort of flies around it ineptly, tapping at the glass. moth to a flame. latches onto therapy speak buzzwords, the language and trappings of emotional intelligence. allows herself to be reassured and swayed by them when coming from oliver, even as they have no substance, no real meaning, only cheaply playing into her preconceived notions and reframing them as intellectual, moral, just. and she laps it up. shes drawn to other peoples suffering bc its an opportunity to play the saviour, which is why when oliver does it, it works so well on her. (which extends to felix and james as well!! suuuuper big white saviour complex going on there!!!!) and specifically as this all pertains to venetia.. her daughter is bulimic and has been hypersexual since 14. and she *knows* this. but she treats it as hot gossip to a man who is a virtual stranger, thus providing him the exact information he needs to manipulate said daughter. sees all of this mans red flags and invites him in because hes another project. another rescue lapdog to return to the shelter when she gets bored, just like pamela. pamela died. shed do anything for attention. and then we see how venetia ends, and oliver didnt even force her to do it. he just...enabled it. it sort of felt inevitable, didnt it? would venetia have done anything for attention, too? elspeth extending this motherly wing over everyone except her actual children. immediately pouncing on oliver with her whole "you can tell me anything, nothing will shock me" bit, right after everyones heard her ripping his story to shreds. the overbearing offer you cant refuse of motherly comfort that you know isnt in good faith, next to the children whove learned the hard way not to give into it, not to show their cards. and felix doing the exact same thing to oliver, prying until he makes up a sob story that allows felix to position himself as a rescuer. faux emotional support, not offered out of kindness, but shoved into your palms without consent. buy us another round (and we'll accept you. dont you want us to accept you? you ditched your only friend for us.) no really, we insist. dont duck out of your round. hey, i thought you might need some help on this one. god thats so awful. was it awful? it must be awful. you can tell me anything. are you going to behave? youre going to eat. i wont take no for an answer.

#finnposting #saltburn #tw assault mention #tw ed mention #finns saltburn tag

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thekingofwinterblog · 5 months

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Maybe this is just a flight of fancy - but your post about Kuma just made me think about how One Piece just abandoned it's more dialectical, for a lack of a better word, direction - instead of a tyrant being somebody who in the irony of history leads to revolutionary change, ala Napoleon, Nobunga, Cromwell or even Ghenghis Khann - he instead must be just a martyr - and not a Jesus, because a Jesus turns tables over and is not allways "nice", but just a caricature of some "Nietschean" "slave morality".

This can just be seen with how Luffy more and more turns from the amoral (not imoral) free spirit that never wants to be a hero and just liberates the world by his self consiousnes dominating the stagnatn oppresion, into a generic saviour, destined by literal prophecies that are fulfilled to the T, and not just by the end of history more abstractly - like hell somebody noticed how "the will of D" was basically overshadowed with the Nika stuff - from smiling because you are content and know that history will redeem everything, to just smiling because it is the magic system in a very boring and surface level way...

So yeah, even if my ideas may sound strange I'll finish that I agree - Kuma was kinda changed from a charachter that was introguing into one that may be more sympathic but ultimately less interesting - a mirror to the Gorosei, who were a human yet poignat critique of real politiks turning people into monster, who go against their compasion, that did destroy Ohara even thought they didnt want to out of a twisted "duty", into the saturday morning literal demons that call people "insects" - and as the devil that tortures souls in hell isn't really evil, so isn't an anti-semitic caricature that has a paralyzing stare - as "evil" as King Geedorah or Godzilla, just a rubber monster, not the evil in all our hearts...

Eh, i agree with some, disagree with some of the other things.

One thing i do disagree with, is the idea that the gorosei being pure evil is a problem. It's not, it's only a problem if all of them are the exact same in personality as Saturn.

The problem with Saturn is not the fact that he's pure evil, and like the rest of the celestial dragons he has a god complex, it's that he's boring.

He's just an evil asshole, who is pure evil, and frankly, his actual main purpose seems to be introducing the magic system that his side has hoarded for themselves, so that we'll have had a taste of it by the time the final conflict takes place.

The problem with Saturn is that there isnt much to him. What glimpses we see from the rest of his circle is that the rest of the gorosei have actual real opinions on the world that is in some part based on good intentions, or at least an appeal to the greater good. By contrast Saturn is just a Celestial Dragon with actual power behind him. no more, no less.

and there are ways to make that sort of characters compelling.

the youtuber Lowart, during his retrospective on the archie sonic comic breaks down pretty well how the Brotherhood of guardians from that franchise are quite frankly assholes... but it's the most extreme member of this extreme group, Locke, who is the most compelling character of the bunch, speciffically because he has been molded by his groups century's long ideology into becoming who he is. the logical end result, of a long line of extremism, who believes that the ends justify the means at any cost... and then explores how this completely ruined his, his wife's and his sons lives.

By contrast saturn is just an asshole, who does assholish things, because he is an asshole.

also as for him being an antisemetic charicature, his devil fruit is clearly a gyuki-oni, a demonic, bovine spider monster from japanese legends.

They really do look like that. they have been a part of Japanese folklore LONG before they even knew jews existed.

By sharp contrast, to saturn, while Imu hasnt been fleshed out in full yet, it's very clear that the monarch of the world has a much more distinct personality, with hopes, dreams, and has very distinct reasons to hate the people he/she does... but you also get the sense that Imu is a very lonely individual, who despite hard words, very clearly misses Lili, and seems to see Vivi as some form of getting to do things over again.

In other words, an actual character, as opposed to Saturn's Im fucking evil guys! look at me! im EVIL!!!

No in terms of good and evil, the larger problem is that the world government's opposition has lost as lot of their greyness as the story went on.

Dragon was a man who's actions was portrayed as a lot more grey than Kuma, a man who didnt mind his son becoming a pirate so long as he actually went out to see how the world was for himself, who talked nonchelantly with his subordinate about having brutually toppled a regime in a coup in their quest to destroy the world government.

There was a sense that he was on the right side of this war... but that he had no problems with shedding blood to get the war done.

Now this trait hasnt exactly been removed, but the way the manga portrays Dragon and his faction's actions has. Now rather than a bloody conflict with lots of intentional civil wars, post time skip it's portrayed more by relatively bloodless coups that doesnt kill that many people.

just look at kuma's flashback, where the king of sorbet was removed twice, and came back a third time, all because dragon didnt have him executed the first time.

The fact is, Oda did not need to make this conflict one of black and white, and it didnt have to become that, even as we saw the true, irredeemable evil at the WG's top.

I think the single biggest showcase of what a bad idea this was, is that Oda could have used the revolutionary army's raid on mariejois as a massacre, where they freed the slave, but also put as many world nobles to the sword as possible. as it is, it makes no sense for them not to do so while at the heart of their enemy's homebase, other than that this would have made them look very, very brutal.

and yeah, im not a fan of nika, or how it overshadows The Will of D.

The powerset of gear 5 is actually great, but It did not need some grandiose backstory that connects Luffy directly with the previous great figure.

I disagree though that luffy himself has become some savior hero. On the contrary, luffy's main storyline post timeskip is how he keeps dedicating himself to assassination plots against his political rivals, on his way to become pirate king.

That is the actions of a pirate, not a hero.

The problem is the fact that due to Nika, now he is entangled to become the next joy boy, not due to his own, personal qualities, but instead due to the devil fruit he ate... which is so much less compelling, and in turn makes Whitebeard denouncing Blackbeard as not able to suceed roger despite his name, as much less compelling.

#one piece #meta #saint saturn #monkey d luffy #monkey d dragon #sun god nika #the will of d #questions and answers

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mio-nika · 1 year

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I was rewatching a Lindsay Ellis videos about movie adaptations of musicals and why they usually don't work. Diegetic and Non-Diegetic narratives.

And it organically started this line of thought about Legion and how hard is to recommend it. So I wrote a giant post.

Like, yes. It's a very lose adaptation of marvel comic. The forgotten spin-off of X-Men universe about a powerful but insane mutant. But, let's just say, it took me three seasons to understand that it was a marvel property. I'm quite slow and only when I heard the last name Xavier I started thinking that I heard it somewhere else. It works great as a stand alone story where some characters just has this paranormal abilities and government are kinda not having it. So I don't think that marvel fans would be very interested in watching. Daredevil is not a good show, but at least Daredevil has Daredevil in it (sorry for fans of dardevil, I also like whump but let's be real here).

And for other people... It's extremely weird show? When I was talking about it with my friends and acquaintances I usually compared it to Voices, a 2014 thriller/black comedy film staring Ryan Reynolds who kills women and talks with his cat. But I also don't think that it's a good comparison? Voices is a black comedy and even if it takes some of the parts of living with schizophrenia realistic it downplays it for comedic purposes.

Fuck. I should have started from explaining that Legion is. As I already wrote, Legion is a TV series loosely based on the series of marvel comics by the same name.

It starts with David, our main protagonist, who is living in a mental hospital, because he's a menace of society, hears voices and let's just say. A little unstable. In the course of the first episode he finds himself a GF and finds that the reason why he hears voices is not because he's sick, but because he's a powerful mutant, a telepath, who hears other people and gets tangled in their minds. And he's a god's child and saviour that that will defend mutants from oppressive politics of humans.

So it's a story about telepaths. And showing epic battles between telepaths are kinda hard? I mean, they can throw big blocks of concrete, cars, control other people minds but it's all are happening outside of their minds. To show things inside their heads, you need to go deeper, you need to be creative. And weird. The magical and terrifying world of human psyche.

In the exact first episode we are granted with a complicated choreographic scene of all of the mental patients in the clinic... How else would we understand that the main character is in love with a girl of his dreams?

And it's only the starting point. The show blurres the boundaries between reality and unreality, where every event is both real and theatrical because in the mind of the main character. It is.

And this is the problem. For example. I have a friend. And they told me, that they don't like musicals because it's hard to them to take seriously the moment where everyone just starts singing all of the sudden. And like. Valid. So let's imagine that the people in the show, not only start singing for no reason, they start a complex dance-off to show their mind power? And you don't even know if they're really dancing, or they just. Doing something else, that for the audience looks like a dance? Anyway, yeah, the second season starts with a dramatic dance-off between three powerful mutants and you just. Sitting there. And I refuse to tell you about rap battle. There was a rap battle. I'm an old wizard who lives in the shoe...

Every episode of Legion starts with a retelling of a previous one. And where all the other shows says "previously" Legion says "ostensibly". Ostensibly in Legion. Who knows that is happening? Not me.

So let's get back to the Voices. Why I'm so torn up when I'm comparing Legion to Voices. Because, well. I think that Legion tells a story about mental illness and it impact much more seriously. Yes, it's a quirky show, with dance and songs, but... "может ли бог быть сошедшим с ума?"

Have you ever watched "They Look Like People"? It's an indie horror film from 2014 about a guy who hears voice of God telling him about incoming apocalypse and alien monsters who are taking people's bodies. I don't like horror movies where mental illnesses is a main story point. They are usually tacky and mean. "This person is ill, so he's scary and dangerous!" And all that. But at the same time, illness is dangerous. Not only for people around sick person, but to the person themselves. Main character in They Look Like People is not evil, he's sick and he needs help. He's suffering much more than the suffering that he inflicts. But where the main character in They Look Like People has a way out, the Legion does not. So what will you do? What you could ever do, if you have an insane god in your hands who are untreatable. And even if he was, he would refuse help because of the years of medical abuse. Both he and people around him have no way out. No happy ending.

So. It's hard to recommend Legion. But I would ask you to try. It's a salad of beautiful horror hiding in colourful clothes of the fairy tale.

Милый, имя тебе легион...

#sorry for long posts #infodumping is my fsv soothing mechanism #so i will be doing it a lot in a near future #gonna even tag it as it #self soothing mechanism #legion

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planetkiimchi · 1 year

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ouch. | l.mh

a/n: these fics keep getting more and more personal and self-indulgent...

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

A small, soft meow causes you to look around, and you realise the sound is coming from a gutter. The pitiful kitty is mewing painfully as it scratches against the grate.

You grimace at how dirty the grate must be, but you hook your fingers into the metal grills and try to ignore whatever slimy and sticky things your hands are touching.

The uncomfortable sensation lingers even after you’ve struggled to lift the heavy grate, and the kitty leaps out and begins nursing its wounds. You catch sight of a small cut that seems to be bleeding on its face, and your heart reaches out for the kitten.

You place the grate back and kneel, face to face with the small kitty, trying to read the words on its collar. “Lee…” Before you can finish, the kitten bounds away, lightfooted steps leading you farther and farther from the direction of your house.

You chase after it, following the sound of the dangling bell that hangs from its neck when it’s out of sight.

Just as it rounds the corner of a nearby convenience store, a droplet drips on your neck. You glance up and see the sky filled with grey clouds.

“Oh, hell.”

You duck into the convenience store, fumbling with your wallet, and extract a ten-thousand won bill from it and buy yourself a pack of wet wipes and the cheapest umbrella you could find.

You feel a sting as you wipe off the grime from your fingers, and see a bloody wound on the palm of your hand. There must've been some sharp point on the metal that dug into your hand, but you were so absorbed with following the cat that you didn’t even notice.

You wince but continue wiping your hand until it’s kind of clean, and throw away the rubbish. You’re about to leave the store and head home, assuming that the cat must have left, when a man with sopping wet hair enters.

In his hands is the exact same cat that you’ve been trailing after, identifiable by its ginger coat and the bell around its neck.

It might have been a trick your eyes were playing on you, but the cat looks almost smug as it sits obediently in his arms, not even wriggling around.

The man hefts the kitten onto his hip with one hand as he places a packet of bandages and a tube of antiseptic cream on the counter. “Do you sell umbrellas?”

The cashier shakes his head. “Sorry, we’re all sold out.”

You look at the umbrella in your hands and realise you bought the last one, and now the poor man who’s just run in the rain to find his cat has to go home in the pouring rain again, or wait out the storm.

“I’ve got a pretty big one, we can share. I kind of bought the last one,” you add sheepishly.

His face breaks out into a grin. “Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.”

His gratefulness seeps into you like a calming balm, and it feels as if the wound in your palm has healed.

Not completely, though, because as you open the umbrella, the thin side of the metal grazes across your palm and you hiss in pain.

The stranger notices, and asks if you’re injured too.

“Yeah. I kind of cut my hand just now trying to save a cat from a gutter.” You take great care not to mention what cat, but the stranger catches your drift immediately.

“Dori, you cheeky kitty! Now your poor saviour’s hand is bleeding like your face,” he chides. Dori has the grace to shrink into the man’s arms, but quickly recovers and continues licking itself.

“I’ve got these,” he offers, holding up the bandages and antiseptic. “If you're okay with walking home with me, I can help patch you up.”

He sees your hesitation and adds, “If you don't want to go home with a stranger, I completely understand. I’m Lee Minho, by the way. There! See, we’re not really strangers any more.”

Minho must have realised how far you’ve walked, because he turns left and you spot his apartment complex.

You close the umbrella as you enter the shelter of the block, and say, “Thanks, Lee Minho. I'm Y/n. I’d appreciate it if you’re really willing to help patch up my wound, because I don't have any first-aid kits at home.”

Minho gestures for you to come in. You leave your shoes by the doorstep next to his, neatly arranging it. Dori escapes from Minho’s grasp, padding off towards the couch, where it snuggles into the comfy fabric.

His home looks fuzzy and inviting, and the allure of the couch calls out to you and you have to mentally reprimand yourself. It’s not your home, after all.

But it does feel a lot more like home than the sterile dormitory you live in, with two beds and your roomate’s half of the room almost as bare as yours. No belongings, and much less items of sentimental value.

“Soonie! Doongie! Come welcome our guest,” Minho calls, interrupting your thoughts. You freeze. He has roommates? What if they get the wrong idea about you?

Minho heads off into a room and shuts the door, peeking from a gap to say apologetically, “Sorry, can you give me some time to change?”

“Oh! Of course,” you mumble, face turning a deep shade of red.

Two more cats, who look slightly bigger and probably older than Dori, come up to you. They keep a respectful distance, but you get the idea that they’re Soonie and Doongie and this is their idea of welcoming you.

Just as the cats run away, Minho comes out of the room wearing a figure-hugging, long-sleeved shirt. You resist the urge to avert your eyes and pointedly make eye contact with him as he brings you into the living room and invites you to take a seat.

“Hand?” You rest your hand on your knee, palm facing upwards for inspection. Minho turns your hand this way and that, his warm touch causing tingles to run up your spine.

Dori curls up on your lap, and Soonie (or Doongie?) plops down at Minho’s feet. Minho follows your gaze and sees the cat rubbing and purring, and says, “That’s Doongie. I adopted Soonie, Doongie and Dori, in that order, and the younger two are a bit more friendly than their oldest ‘sister’.”

He’s a cat person! The complete opposite of you. Your roommate has a dog back in her parent’s house, and you absolutely adore it when she regales tales of her beloved pet to you, complete with adorable pictures.

Minho warns you that cleaning up your palm is going to sting, and swipes an alcohol swab over the open wound. Then, he gently dabs some antiseptic on it, and sticks on a large plaster over the wound.

“You’re all good to go.” He clicks his tongue and motions for Dori to come closer so he can take a look at its face. Dori preens, whiskers quivering as it juts its head out, cut on display.

As Minho looks down, he catches sight of your right shoulder, and notices that the entire right side of your body is wet.

“Oh no! Was this from sharing the umbrella earlier? You shouldn’t have let me share it with you! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…” he says, mostly to himself.

He disappears and comes back with a towel, which he hands to you. “Do you need an extra shirt, too? I don't know if you’d want one of mine, but…”

You don't want to admit it, but you did consider taking him up on his offer, and getting to smell the comforting scent and having a warm sweater to go home with.

However, you shake your head, and simply dry yourself off, shaking your head like a wet dog.

As you do so, you're captivated by the tranquilness of the silence as Minho tenderly applies antiseptic to Dori’s face as it mews and mews.

Even though it squirms, he keeps a firm but loose grip on it, holding it by the scruff of its neck and tilting its head up.

You don't want to break the glass bubble of this intimate moment, but you feel as if you're trespassing into his life. You don't want to be that kind of person, invading Minho’s privacy under the guise of injury.

“Thank you so much, Lee Minho. I live nearby, so I do hope to see you soon.”

You stand up and prepare to leave, and his hand automatically reaches out to stop you, but withdraws it before his fingers touch your skin. You're disappointed at the lack of contact, feeling his warmth ghost over your arm, but you nod in thanks and head out.

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

#kimchi’s side dish #kpop fics #stray kids #lee know #soft #fluff #🪁 — my works

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lesbian-empress-nero · 3 months

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Mementos. Ryuji fucking hated Mementos.

His hatred didn’t ease up after Akechi. It almost made it worse, actually.

The memory of Akechi sacrificing himself to save the rest of them, the terror of not being able to save him. He should have tried harder. He should have used his Persona to break down that stupid wall, to save Akechi from fucking dying-

The bruises on his body served as a reminder of his failure. He had deserved every last of those hits. He had almost died saving the others right after they had lost someone to the exact same thing. No wonder the others had been angry.

Now here he was, trudging through reds and blacks and blues the same shade as his bruises, taking out his grief on unsuspecting Shadows.

Attack, dodge, summon lightning, dodge, attack. The cycle repeated endlessly, though the consistency helped distract him. The constant need to dodge and focus on landing his hits was a nice distraction from his own self-hatred.

As he continued on, he heard a voice. It sounded familiar, if not hazy- like someone he had heard in a dream once. He followed the sound, cautious and weary.

There stood Akechi, muttering the words to a song. It was one Ryuji recognized, he listened to it often. How did Akechi know that song?

Wait. Wait. Wait. Ryuji froze, realisation hitting him harder than Makoto’s fist.

“AKECHI!?”

Akechi whirled around, eyes wide. “Ryuji-!”

Ryuji rushed forward, pulling him into an embrace. It felt surreal, the sturdiness of his body, the softness of his clothes, the sound of his breathing, shallow and ragged in his chest. Miracle of miracles, Goro Akechi was alive.

“Ryuji...” Akechi whispered, trembling in his arms. Ryuji responded by hugging him tighter, sobbing quietly.

“‘M so sorry, ma-”

Akechi stepped back, holding his cheeks in his hands. “No. No, don’t apologise. You have no reason to apologise. You are not at fault here. I am. Don’t blame yourself, Ryuji. Never blame yourself. It’s my fault.”

If Ryuji felt like he’d been punched in the face before, now he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

“You saved us, and all I did was-”

“Save them again. You risked your life to save them. You are just as much a hero as I,” Akechi said. Ryuji could only nod.

Ryuji didn’t know how long they spent there, hugging and taking solace in each other.

All he knew was Akechi was alive, and he was safe. He supposed that was all that really mattered.

I NEEDED a little comfort after that last one!!!!

ryuji's saviour complex fucking him over because he bases his whole worth on saving people but he FAILED and he feels worthless.

akechi needed to comfort the poor guy. ryuji needed some reassurance that its not his responsibility to protect everyone. that he has more worth than just saving people. and his "failure" wasnt even his fault.

#nero answers #shackle-foes #ryugoro

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beepbeepbitcoin · 1 year

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What is AI Gaming, What are the Features

Gaming Industry is evolving. Developers are trying their best to give gamers the best gaming experience by instilling new features.

Advanced technology and the emergence of Artificial Intelligence in different industries have sent a powerful message to incorporate AI into gaming. Though AI has been present in games, it's time to take it to a new level.

AI helps convert complex things into simpler forms. Voice assistance apps, chatbots, and navigation apps are some examples. But in games, we want AI to behave the exact opposite by increasing the difficulty level because easy games become monotonous and we gradually quit playing them. So, to retain players, it is necessary to add twists and turns in the game.

AI can be the saviour of this situation and fulfill 'gamers' expectations. AI can help add spice to the gaming experience and keep gamers hooked to their screen.

What AI brings to the table

Longevity - Think it this way, a company builds a brilliant game with awesome features but ends on a boring note at every level or stage. Would you remain a constant fan of the game? AI's predictive features and pattern analysis can add ideal real-time scenarios to the game. It can result in a lasting impact on the gamer and increase the player's retention in the game.

Self-Learning - AI can examine and adapt to different game situations. It can analyze the gamer's playing pattern and set the game proceedings accordingly.

Suppose you are playing a car racing game and you have a habit of boosting your car speed near race track curves. AI will analyze this pattern and throw obstacles on your car near track curves to make the game more difficult. Also, one time I was playing Hextris on a Web3 Gaming website called GameInfinity. The more I played, the more difficult it became because the AI predicted my playing speed and restructured the difficulty level.

This predictive feature of AI was quite impressive. It can help maintain the curiosity of gamers and keep them addicted to the game.

Realistic Experience - One of the most attractive features of AI Gaming is its ability to provide a realistic experience in the game. As AI can learn behaviour and patterns, it can generate the same stimuli in the game through different in-game characters.

Tracks Cheating - We have witnessed hackers in many games that we have played. It takes the developers some time to detect them and permanently ban their accounts. AI detects hackers quickly, making the game more playable and less prone to cheating.

Signing off

To conclude, one can assume that AI will bring exciting changes in the gaming industry and will multiply its annual revenue. It will also detect and eliminate any monotonous element associated with the game, giving players a whole new gaming experience.

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viaetor · 1 year

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#𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄: an essay on cosmic solitude, divine duty, ancient lullabies about never-ending mysteries and universe horrors wonders. inspired by the poem “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖” by 𝘩. 𝑝. 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡, as follows: “the house was old, with tangled wings outthrown, / of which no one could ever half keep track, / and in a small room somewhat near the back / was an odd window sealed with ancient stone. / there, in a dream-plagued childhood, quite alone / i used to go, where night reigned vague and black; / parting the cobwebs with a curious lack / of fear, and with a wonder each time grown. // one later day i brought the masons there / to find what view my dim forbears had shunned, / but as they pierced the stone, a rush of air / burst from the alien voids that yawned beyond. / they fled – but i peered through and found unrolled / all the wild worlds of which my dreams had told.”

ㅤㅤonce upon a time, if time could flow for cosmic beings the same way as verses of the folk in bards’ mouths do, they were two in one. lai’methir, the magnum opus of the constellations; caelings, travellers, guardians. sword and shield, she and he. always together, never one without the other—almost as if they knew not how to exist separately. perhaps they truly didn’t, perhaps they certainly could yet they chose not to learn. regardless, such were things, and neither of them seemed discontent with being stuck to their hips—twins not because they came to be from the same stellar bosom, but due to the fact they were born in the exact planes of dimension, time-space-similarity. from their infancy as proto-stars to their most adventurous years, they’d waltz closely, reconnoitring the cosmos from tip to tip, always flying at the same pace, hands held, even if their eyes looked for different things.

ㅤㅤon the surface, they were very much one in the same, radiating absoluteness and power, carrying themselves with the same posture. but it’d only take a look deep into their shining eyes to know that they were not painted with the same hues of gold. that, however, was a secret they kept close to themselves, daring not to utter a word about it even amongst their kin. aether, the golden comet, would look for planets that held long histories to patiently unfold, fascinated even by the most broken ones. lumine, the silvery bloom, would observe the astros that were yet to be born or to wither, awed by the certainties of the laws of the universe. a crippling sense of dependency ran in their black-matter blood, inciting goosebumps on the rare occasions they lost each other during a fight. if one came to die, would so the other or would one of them get stronger by their loss? they’d rather not know. they didn't need to know. so together they always were.

ㅤㅤuntil things started to change.

ㅤㅤyou see, dear listener, the balance of the cosmos is a delicate one, meant not to be tainted by the hands of boorish gods and goddesses and their wavering greed. no. it asks for fortitude, tenacity, that is, it needs a celestial nature. therefore, for such a noble role, the universe tasks itself with giving birth to divine creatures of their own making—order-keepers, special caelings created by the astros to help enforce the heavenly principles of all worlds. that is what our dearest travellers of yore were meant to be, order-keepers caelings; executors of every command the ethereal forces whispered in their ears, saviours of cries that echoed through the vast blackness, devotees of the absolute holiness of glittering lights. from a powerful constellation they whence came, thus they were expected great things from, just as renowned soldiers are by ruthless generals.

ㅤㅤbut travelling through worlds, exploring and adventuring the complexity of life—that is a dangerous thing to do. you begin to learn, to wonder, to feel, to think, to question. and suddenly, the hand holding dimension-shattering sword prefers to touch the softness of a rose petal, to turn pages of a romantic book, to gently twirl a mortal’s strand of hair. that is, you begin to care. and that is a path you cannot easily walk away from.

ㅤㅤafter a few cycles on a void-forsaken planet, they had concluded little changes ought to be made to its ecosystem according to what the stars told them from the horizon. they never interfered with living beings’ spans directly on their volition, you see, it mattered if they spoke, barked or simply photosynthesized; it was not their direct jurisdiction unless the balance depended on it. more often than not, they’d simply alter mountains, and a planet’s core, and burn forbidden artefacts after immortalising them in their memories—simple order-keepers’ duties.

ㅤㅤalthough, this time, they were commanded to do something different—to shatter the planet’s core and kill a specific person. a youngling who would grow up to learn how to solve their homeland issues. it was an easy kill. they were far more used on slaying maddened beasts or cutting throats of far too arrogant deities. this was certainly... an odd change of pace, they thought. but they bore no complaints. how could they? they were each other’s witnesses, bearers of murderous weapons, cleaning each other of any filth that got stuck on their clothing. whatever grave sin that youngster was about to commit would be no more.

ㅤㅤwhile they finished wiping the world of any clues of their interference, aether found a brilliant gemstone in the youngling’s pocket. right next to it, was a paper with inking on top; a primitive representation of what he supposed was the tyke’s family. he crouched down, tilting his head as the mortal remains burned hot still on his cheek, taking the yellowish prism into his hand.

ㅤㅤgently rotating it, he could see all the colours of the universe through such a gem—the mixture of green and blue, just like the nebulae trails and clusters he and his sister would rest upon, the orange sounds that the stars made when they whispered them lullabies, the whitened pinks of their favourite quasars to play with, back when they were just a few hundred years old. he could see it all that he had lived, and all that he would still live. right there, on his palm. such a realisation was a strange one to him, poetics were never meant to be a part of his functionalities, after all. he found himself questioning if such a youngling had ever seen all those colours, if they, in their limited mortal eyes, could comprehend colours that didn’t yet exist in popular vocabulary. if they had lived them. and if yes, which ones? which didn’t they get a chance to experience? how about his family, the others of his kind? had they lived through such colours, the same ones he has? would they miss any tints of existence now that one of their own was gone? it was hard to say and it wasn’t as if he could get any answers from the remains on the floor. all that was left for him was to deduce using logic, but that was never his forte. he was still only a couple of thousand years old, after all, and all he needed to know was written by the stars.

ㅤㅤlumine never spoke a word during his reflections, even when she had her wings spread open, ready to depart back to the heaven above. she waited behind him, silently, like she always did. they never talked unless it was in extreme cases, their voices being strangers to each other’s senses for many years. aether didn’t need to look back to know what expression she was making—stoic, sovereign, sublime. just like always. nevertheless, he eventually did turn to face her, firmly holding the gemstone up as if that chunk was a revolutionary thing to be brought to the cosmos.

ㅤㅤhow many minutes, hours or days passed before she broke the silence, you ask? he does not remember, but eventually, she did, and that’s one of the reasons why we have this story. “i see nothing,” stated her dryly. much like him, she knew not how to wonder out loud, a warrior of the stars to her marrow, but what she truly wanted to state was an inquiry: why are you holding that?

ㅤㅤ“look closer. we can see ourselves.”

ㅤㅤ“‘tis not a mirror.”

ㅤㅤaether tilted his head, even if his face remained as expressionless as his companion. she was right. but couldn’t she see what he was seeing? then… turning the gemstone three degrees to the left so it would beam a gentle sandy glow, much like her blond hair and eyes, he continued: “‘tis you.”

ㅤㅤthis time, it was lumine who tilted her head, curious, even if she hadn’t unsummoned her weapon yet. she waited for something more, but nothing came. “a gemstone.” stated her, but this time, her tone lingered for a few more octaves than needed, a hint of hesitation with her own response.

ㅤㅤ“no, you.”

ㅤㅤ “it holds no weapon, it cannot be me.”

ㅤㅤif he knew what emotions are, he’d have furrowed his brow and called himself frustrated. but he didn’t. he remained silent and still for a while, until she spoke again:

ㅤㅤ“we’re done, then. let us fly back.”

ㅤㅤmore conscious eyes stared back at the infant they had just killed, resting there. the picture of their family that was previously next to the gemstone made him even more puzzled. was that gemstone a mere currency in this world, like coins were to some, or was it a personal treasure to that child just like that frivolous portrait? why else would they carry it in the same pocket? could people be treasures? he supposed, knowing how mortals and deities knew no bounds to their arrogance and cruelty sometimes. ah... could it be that they were different things, but equally as important? the gemstone ought to be a currency in this dried out planet, but perhaps the photo had a sentimental value. what was it that the mortals called? right, home. homes were meant to be important. home was a concept that he heard about over and over again. a place you always returned to, somewhere you belonged, a warm haven—whatever those things meant. according to many, every being had one.

ㅤㅤ“brother.” he remembers to this day, she didn’t call him by his name back then. not until they had… well, that’s a story for another time.

ㅤㅤbut, just as freshly, he remembers this was his first question in his entire immortal life: “are we going home, to the astros?” heavy sandy eyelashes blinked far more than what a stoic face would allow, unsure of how to process. so he continued as he raised himself from the ground, gemstone still beaming through his gloves. “do we have a home?”

ㅤㅤshe looked down, pupils focused nowhere in particular. she wasn’t made for this; neither of them was. not this kind of wondering, at least. they were meant to do things as expressly told by the stars, like the obedient children that they were raised to be. but she closed her eyes, almost as if she hoped to not be perceived by the stars above—if she understood emotions, she’d say she was afraid of being judged and punished. but she didn’t understand anything of the sort, so she most certainly wasn’t.

ㅤㅤand so, she spoke again, at long last, while dissipating her galactic weapon and offering her bloody hand instead: “you have me.”

ㅤㅤand that was enough. to change their entire lives, to change the course of the universe. when their eyes met again, they weren’t the same. they knew the language of the stars, the idioms spoken by hundreds of galaxies and scriptures lost to time, but they were yet too young to know how to express the relief found in that question, in that answer. what mattered, however, was that their soon-to-be hearts knew. suddenly, the cosmos felt a bit less empty, a lot warmer, and they weren’t just one in separate bodies, but two individuals.

ㅤㅤso nothing came out of his mouth as a response to her statement, for it wasn’t necessary. joint by their hips since birth, they needed only to breathe to comprehend each other’s intentions and this fortunately was no exception. so instead of speaking, he took the gemstone with him in one hand, and his sister’s in his other, spreading his wings alongside hers. he promised wordlessly that he would take that jewel with him and show all the colours of the universe that that kid couldn’t experience —almost as an apology. to what, exactly, he’d still discover.

ㅤㅤbut within the cryptic depths of the universe, some of the elder stars knew that their obedient order-keepers would be blind followers no more. to wonder and wander by themselves was their first sin, their first break of the contract with the heavenly principles. and oh, how they would pay for it. it’d take a few eons for their transgression to burden them, but it would. for now, only the galaxies would bleed.

ㅤㅤas they flew together to nowhere in specific, thinking to themselves they’d simply wait for the next set of instructions and that nothing much had changed, aether felt something clutching in his stellar core, telling him to not look back to the planet they had just left.

ㅤㅤunfortunately, he did. he did. and oh, what a terrible mistake that was.

ㅤㅤhe learned that order-keepers are not there to follow an always righteous balance but to follow the whims of the oldest astros. for how else could he explain the monstrous black hole that blossomed from the pits of a nearby star, its abyssal tentacles embracing everything around it as the civilizations screamed loud enough for them to hear? he watched, horrified for the first time in his existence, how destructive the cosmos could be. what he could be. he knew now why the newly-born stars only whispered or shyly sung—they were ghosts too afraid of having their spirits burned again in the afterlife, for they dared to shine too bright when they weren’t meant to.

ㅤㅤand he? he was created to be one of their reapers. what a fancy name for a guardian.

ㅤㅤhe squeezed lumine’s hand tighter.

#murder /#death /#cosmic horror /#horror /#tagging just to be sure bc the mentions are very non-graphical #but pls once u have the time read this!! i'll be incorporating it into my aether portrayal 110% of the time #i just. really needed to get this out of my system #may edit things later #& i'll write more abt the caelings/starlings hehehe #❛ㅤ𓆩✦𓆪ㅤ:ㅤheadcanon﹔ㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤsecrets from the stars.

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